Long Adulterated Poems

Long Adulterated Poems. Below are the most popular long Adulterated by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Adulterated poems by poem length and keyword.


Earthen Spider

On a rainy day, I float like a spider in an earthen city, 
the glue of the body is my own land, 
who also can I blame? 

Insane to find the demonic catastrophe suppressed,
 folded in the gaps of the body of the beauty! 
The lamp post, like the naked thighs of the sun, 
gives a shameless handshake in the afternoon, 
the delight of an imaginary woman! 
Being a monk, I am being oxidized by my own digestive juice, who else can I blame? So many disobedient hormones born in your own body! 

The great art of walking up the night of a women's civilization;
exquisite craftsmanship of cosmic architects, 
their banners have been put up for auction, 
prices are rising like crazy horses in the stock market! 
Men cannot move the peacock's tail to calculate the simple figure! 
Who do I blame? 
Fastinstru with Neanderthals, 
people are now all hybrid! 

The youth of a half-eaten man submerged in water, 
burns in cheap cigarettes and 
eats adulterated poisonous food, 
like bait fish guardian. 
Seeing the fertile love of Goddesses Aphreter, the fun-filled cum, when it smells like rotten jack fruit, I understand that it is my own body --prowess beast, 
every time I count the grains, the poisonous bite is accumulating in my jaw!


Jungle-Fever Euphoria

Ding-ding-beat,
beating drums, humming, 
humming a useless song.
Listen and repeat. 

Hoping for epiphanies 
while we watch the sun cast glitter 
upon Autumn leaves.
Maybe the truth 
resides within a song, 
or a voice, 
a bed made up 
or a room made neat,

or the groove 
between our toes, 
where the sand beneath our feet
collects to make its way to the street,

from the ocean that represents 
freedom; how come?
Is it really so grand
that we itch to fight for it?
Ah that itch! Damn 
the restlessness!

But here we are going deep
into norms, zombies 
chasing green lights
and leaving cookies for Santa.
A dream world where ghosts could be 
whatever we haven't yet thought. 

We don’t understand what we need,
how our choices, guided 
by an urge to breed
are mostly made without us...
We're the aliens,
puppets suspended into space.
Merry, merry,
merry Christmas. I believe

in drug-induced euphoria, I've seen
the god that wasn't. A smell
so familiar. The essence 
of things ever filtered, 
adulterated by senses 
meant just to survive.
We wash ourselves in a fountain
of beautiful reasons to be,
bubbling up from nowhere
in our jungle beneath the stars.

Happy New Year,
wild Summer,
sweet dreams.
Form: Rhyme

Behind a Round Table

Behind a Round Table:
This is ANDERSON WALKINGSHOES... 
VERSE 1:
I'm a witness,...you're an audience,
Yes,...Christ and the church,
Abide to list of ineptness, 
Meet a criteria of creche,
A lioness gifted with new furs from gold, 
Love in their abode,
Chorus:
"come in to your breeding home",
Oceans we take sight,...greener pastures we stroll along,
How can I taste your sweetness?
When will I have you as a fuel in my lamp?
I guess writing your feelings in my heart,
Chorus:
"come in to your breeding home",
Oceans we take sight,...greener pastures we stroll along,
How can I taste your sweetness?
When will I have you as a fuel in my lamp?
I guess writing your feelings in my heart,
VERSE 2:
Attractive and benevolent flower in the botany of a gardener, 
It is purchased for a purpose;
providing rich scents,prestige and endeavors, 
Beak of falcons wish to feed upon,
Doves and sparrows like it's leaves,
But they work in vain,
News about you and I is heard in the East,
Those from west come to view the feast,
From North comes Kings and Queens,
"Very adulterated with endearment",
That's the voice of the southern prominent,  .
Three things attributed by love;hardworking,dedication and focus, 
The head of one man carries the goals of perversion, 
Joy and peace;they are the son and daughter of couples,
"Open your heart,...I.want to hide myself in there",
The man said, 
Incredibly the voice of the woman toned,
Chorus:
"come in to your breeding home",
Oceans we take sight,...greener pastures we stroll along,
How can I taste your sweetness?
When will I have you as a fuel in my lamp?
I guess writing your feelings in my heart,
Chorus:
"come in to your breeding home",
Oceans we take sight,...greener pastures we stroll along,
How can I taste your sweetness?
When will I have you as a fuel in my lamp?
I guess writing your feelings in my heart,
Outro:
This is ANDERSON WALKINGSHOES.... 
Matrimonial seal our consolidation with angelic visitation, 
Heaven then hails our glory with hope and laughter, 
Day and night concludes our sojourn on the surface of greatness,
That's when death workouts its part with loneliness and weariness,
Feeding the belly of graves with our rotten vessel,
Form: Blitz

Premium Member Recreation

He plays the chords with his blue depression
          still searching for true loves heart expression
Though there is praise for this worlds celebrity
          true satisfaction from there will never be
 
There those extol the merits of your voice
          or the fantasy of ones visionary choice
ones merit to run with company so grand
          or be courtesan to the leader of the band
 
Can such a person ever truly see
          be freed from the snares of this society
reject philosophy and understanding realize
          seek for all the truth and for its prize
  
The concept of purity can he ever hold
          reject the hype that these teachings sold
escape the prison of pride and vanity
          the pursuits of the world and its insanity
 
All of these issues we have had to face
          the system is designed for humanities disgrace
 liquids full of poison forced ingestion sup
          the table of corruption with its broken cup
 
Oh how the gold of vanity has shined
          and its thought adulterated and unrefined
the glitter of those lies have truth polluted 
          with the leaven of the religions instituted
 
 
COPYRIGHT © 2012 C. Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC

Gal 5
19 The works of the flesh are obvious: sexual immorality, impurity and debauchery; 20idolatry and witchcraft; hatred, discord, jealousy, fits of rage, selfish ambition, dissensions, factions 21 and envy; drunkenness, orgies, and the like. I warn you, as I did before, that those who live like this will not inherit the kingdom of God.
 22 But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, 23 gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law. 24 Those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires. 25 Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit. 
 
 
Rev 22
 12 “Look, I am coming soon! My reward is with me, and I will give to each person according to what they have done. 13 I am the Alpha and the Omega, the First and the Last, the Beginning and the End.
   14 “Blessed are those who wash their robes, that they may have the right to the tree of life and may go through the gates into the city. 15 Outside are the dogs, those who practice magic arts, the sexually immoral, the murderers, the idolaters and everyone who loves and practices falsehood.
Form: Verse

Lust In Love

Wriggled in her arms.
Lost in an adventure of romance, moving far afield.
Though I have no weakness for writing, 
my story got underway.
Wallowing in the admiralty of her beauty
Adorned with beautiful antique ornament
Adulterated with the laudable attribute of nature
Epitomizing the 6th day work,
and the adroit molding of the creator.
Ensconced on her chest for an aeon of time.
Only my hands left to keep the memory of time.
Touching the acme of her chest,
Pointing like that of Sheba.
Turning it to a piccolo, without an acoustic.
Acknowledging the season between her legs,
warming the cold in my hands.
Letting my hand becoming an ace,
and my phalanges adept in describing her.
My eyes falling over itself
to keep the facsimile of her body,
and my skin falling in with my eyes,
as two spent swimmers that do cling together.
Feeling her permed hair,
blowing like a frond tree by the river.
Her eyes shining like a cat
which has never been afeared 
Her skin like flowers that never fade in autumn
and less of acne in winter.
I wish our spirit is adjoined forever
Like fifes and drum that make a good sound,
Keeping myself in the light of your love
praying it never fade.
I wish I wake up in my trance 
Wishing I say all these to your face 
And see it received.


Birth of Beauty

I'm a witness,...you're an audience,
Yes,...Christ and the church,
Abide to list of ineptness, 
Meet a criteria of creche,
A lioness gifted with new furs from gold, 
Love in their abode,
Attractive and benevolent flower in the botany of a gardener, 
It is purchased for a purpose;
providing rich scents,prestige and endeavors, 
Beak of falcons wish to feed upon,
Doves and sparrows like it's leaves,
But they work in vain,
News about you and I is heard in the East,
Those from west come to view the feast,
From North comes Kings and Queens,
"Very adulterated with endearment",
That's the voice of the southern prominent,  .
Three things attributed by love;hardworking,dedication and focus, 
The head of one man carries the goals of perversion, 
Joy and peace;they are the son and daughter of couples,
"Open your heart,...I.want to hide myself in there",
The man said, 
Incredibly the voice of the woman toned,
"come in to your breeding home",
Oceans we take sight,...greener pastures we stroll along,
How can I taste your sweetness?
When will I have you as a fuel in my lamp?
I guess writing your feelings in my heart,
Matrimonial seal our consolidation with angelic visitation, 
Heaven then hails our glory with hope and laughter, 
Day and night concludes our sojourn on the surface of greatness,
That's when death workouts its part with loneliness and weariness,
Feeding the belly of graves with our rotten vessel,
Form: Concrete

Tears of My Mother

When my mother moaned
As she witnessed her daughter depart this life
I was touched by the glitter in her tears
        Tears of emancipated love,
         The sort ordinary in a woman
         That is not faked or imperfect;
But my father admonished me
That her tears were psychologically adulterated,
That her tears were meant to delude me-
After all fatality of a son is more devastating.
         I did not accept as true what father told me
         For I knew the lie in male psychology
         So I ran from him without looking back
And followed mother to her bedroom
And I wiped away the tears from her face:
         She was my mother
         And I was her son
I could not let her cry alone.

Mowed Down Field Day With Redacted Mueller Report

Attorney General William
Barr black marker in hand
kept promise to censor vital
details of Mueller Report
swift as Usain Bolt candidly,
grandly, lustrously, roundly

youthfully blocked out more
rapid than an elegant eland
vibrantly, regally, magically,
and gracefully skirts borderland
which favored topography
constitutes grassland or woodland,

far more pleasing to observe,
than reading adulterated brand
of aforementioned compilation,
distillation, edification, fortification
zeroing questionable activity
upon head of trumpeting brigand,

whose arrivistic, bombastic, caustic,
demonic, electric broadband
outsize ego still convinces
me, thee commander in chief
delegated one or more chargehand
perhaps while delighting as

gourmand savoring chateaubriand,
where his best buddies imagined
themselves in seventh heaven cloudland
every so often taking siesta sans repast
or golfing with grisly handicapped clubhand
non verbally communicating,

in viz sub bully taking a peas zing
cues from presidential high command,
which coterie (i.e. den of thieves)
manipulated social media with nefarious,
insidious, deleterious, et cetera
analogous to "FAKE" contraband,

maybe even milking innocent cowhand
unwittingly planting GMO electronic
bugs amidst future bovine fodder cropland
to allow, enable, and jackknife demand
that moost every eligible voter tricked

induced by virtual reality dreamland
with sinister motive for thee "Apprentice"
rule his kingdom, and expand,
realm asper Medieval days
declaring himself chieftain of fatherland
and/ or North American motherland

where naysayers guillotined
by uncontested firebrand,
who without provocation
very likely bomb into Stone Age
formerly edenic, lush, verdant
geography into flatland

rendered hostile, poisonous and uninhabitable
nonetheless radiating for miles with gangland
forced labor tilling barren, desolate, fissured
landscape erecting unsightly grand
standing room only (cause he know Shylock)

terrain (reign) vast highland
manor as poobah, and husband
to his only heiress, the former
a kooky monster from foggy bottom marshland.

Premium Member Wander-Lust

Eroticism -
a supple spine in a wanting curve
and a foolish fever simmers a scarlet heartbeat—
temptation is an aphrodisiac 
and guilt— a red kite lost in a hot hurricane 

a strand of blue moonstones plunge to titillate
illicit points of contact caught by starlight 
restless yin-nerve-endings take an edgy stance—
primal presence pearls beneath parted flimsy fabric 
ah.. gossamer chic taken and tossed by windy hands  
freeing moons and earth captured in your orbit

golden hair a dirty tangle flies— streamers
of infidelity seized in someone else’s hands
heat-seeking rhythm throbs within walls 
a slappin’ poppin’ bass line frenzy
our bodies wild like a warehouse rave
a driving beat hugging hips caught in a fishnet shimmy
high on oxytocin and fizz of affaire du jour—
unbridled breakers breaking vows in a whipped up gale
as hedonistic hot spots revel in unrestrained spindrift 

.. it’s a jungle for conjugal love ..

volcanic ash streaks a feral romance 
carnal cat (a hungry stippled stray)
pins me down like prey in a dopamine storm 
where edges rendezvous soft and hard and fuse
a silhouette of geometry body-painted in black sands 
as the surge uncurls the waves—
dreamscape escape on a slick onyx sheet

nakedness blurs in the rough charcoal smudge
shapes shaded with a roll on the rim of a graphite night
the art of cheating sins stain a seedy portrait on skin 
yet basks in the moonbeam’s push into the pulse
without mercy or justification—
just unadulterated 
adulterated

euphoria!

Premium Member A Mouth With Baggage

Owned by a soul which is but a mirror with numerous cracks
producing adulterated words and staged expressions
transparency has been given numerous stretch marks
from its tongue which guns down actuality
its lips so insensitive and always paralyzing reality
with the thongs of imagination, hooks of inventions and blades of omission

Sweet stories expressed with award-winning gestures
but as concrete as a duplex on a wooden foundation
the compilation never ends with the Brain’s memory strained
as every event only exist in the stores of its mind
and fetched by the exodus of its false sentences
Form: Epic

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